


And This Is Where We Start

by turps



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme prompt of --</p>
<p>Athos and Sylvie often encourage Aramis to join them in their room away from the garrison. Aramis hasn't been getting enough... sleep... you see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And This Is Where We Start

A basket of freshly baked bread tucked securely under her arm, Sylvie walks toward Athos, gentle heat seeping into her side as she says, “Does he know that you want him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The reply is immediate, Athos turning away from Aramis and toward Sylvie, his attention now wholly on her. “Let me help you with that.”

In answer, Sylvie hands over the basket and starts walking, taking a last look back toward Aramis who's animately talking to a stall-holder, one hand on his hip and laughing as he selects an apple from the display on the table. 

For a few moments Sylvie allows Athos his silence and then says, “You watch him all of the time.”

“Because he’s a fellow Musketeer. My friend.” Athos’ knuckles are white where he’s clutching the basket and he starts walking faster. “And he needs watching. Aramis is a danger to himself often.”

“So I’ve heard,” and Sylvie has, she’s heard the rumours and stories and more importantly has met Aramis himself, someone who uses his charm and good looks as effectively as his sword and musket. 

“Then you know he needs to be watched.”

“I know he can look after himself.” At least mostly, while Sylvie has known Aramis for a short time, it’s enough that she’s seen the cracks in his armour. They’re ones that he mostly keeps hidden, but Sylvie’s spent a lifetime hiding her true nature and needs, and it’s easy to recognise someone crying out for affection. “And that often he’s lonely.”

“Aramis is the least lonely person I know,” Athos says, and then, “He has many friends and lovers. And if those were not enough all he has to do is snap his fingers and more would appear.”

“But how many of them love him in return?” Sylvie tucks her arm through Athos’, walking close as she lets that comment sink in. 

They head back to Sylvie’s room in silence, Sylvie smiling greetings as they pass friends and the people who’re just starting to become used to a Musketeer regularly walking their streets.

“He doesn’t trust easily or seek out deep relationships.” Athos slows his walk until they stop in a quiet corner, glancing around for eavesdroppers before he adds, “He’s been hurt in the past.”

Sylvie looks directly at Athos, not surprised in the slightest. “And that makes you want to protect him?”

Instantly Athos says, “I will watch his back always. And he mine.”

It’s obvious that Athos is stating the truth, his loyalty and affection toward Aramis shining true, but there’s more than that, Sylvie can tell. It’s something she’s seen for a while now, as she got to know and then fell for this man who’s quickly become such an important part of her life.

“And you want him.” It’s not what Sylvie expected to say, not here or now when they’re out in public and people could hear. But, what needs to be said doesn’t always arrive at the right moment, and she knows that now is the time to speak out.

Athos tries to pull away, the basket falling from under his arm as he does so. “No, I do not. Such things can’t and don’t happen.”

“Except that they do.” Sylvie bends, picking up a loaf that’s fallen onto the ground, brushing off dirt before she puts it back with the others. “You watch him always, you cry his name in your sleep.”

“No doubt I was having a nightmare due to yet another example of his risky behaviour,” Athos says, his expression frozen and voice clipped as he takes a further step back. “I must go now.”

“No.” Determined, Sylvie grabs hold of Athos’ arm, knowing if he wanted he could easily break free. He doesn’t, just stands still, his mouth a thin line as she says, “Wanting him is not wrong.”

“It is when I’m with you. When he’s another Musketeer. When he’s my friend.” The last breaks through Athos’ icy composure, his shoulders slumping as he says, “Nothing could ever happen.”

“Yes it could.” Sylvie hates seeing Athos like this, like she’s broken through his usual reserves and exposed his insecurities and fears to the world, but it’s something that needs to be done. “The last two mean nothing. And the first. What if I wanted him too?”

“You want Aramis?” Athos seems shocked, hurt briefly showing before he starts to shut down again. “Well, that explains everything. If you made the wrong choice....”

“Don’t be stupid.” Sylvie steps into Athos’ space so they’re chest to chest, looking up as she says, “I don’t want him like that. I like him, he’s handsome and good company. I think we could be good friends. But he’s not you. Not even close.”

Athos lets out a breath at Sylvie’s words, resting a hand on her back, holding on as he says, “So why this?”

“Because I love you. Because you love him and he needs you.” Sylvie hesitates, enjoying the feel of Athos’ body next to her own, and while she likes making him happy, she’s not some martyr who’s about to sacrifice her own happiness by shoving Aramis into Athos’ bed -- at least not alone. “I think we could be good together. Not always, but sometimes.”

Athos’ breath hitches as he asks, “Are you saying you want Aramis to take you into his bed?” 

Sylvie shakes her head, and says, “No, I’m saying I want to take him into our bed. There’s a difference.”

And there is.

~*~*~*~

“You are aware he could say no.” Athos is standing close to Sylvie, both of them watching Aramis who’s preparing to leave the barracks. With a last smile toward Porthos and d'Artagnan, he winks at them both, whistling as he walks through the courtyard. 

“He could,” Sylvie agrees, but she’s been watching both Aramis and Athos for a while now, and she’s confident that Aramis will agree to their plan. “But he won’t.”

“And what if he does?” Athos asks, the calm inflection of his words an indicator of just how nervous he is. “If this goes wrong I could be drummed from the regiment. Or he could shoot me. The bible does not say to lie with another man.”

“It doesn’t say not to, either.” Sylvie grabs hold of Athos’ hand, squeezing it briefly. “This isn’t the time to discuss religious teachings. And if Aramis shoots you I’ll shoot him in return. But it won’t come to that.”

“That would be a lot of shooting,” Athos says, the slightest hint of a smile the first expression he’s shown since they met a short time before. “Treville won’t be happy.”

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Sylvie can feel her heart racing as Aramis approaches. While she’s sure their plan will work, and that it’s something that needs to happen, she’s still taking a huge risk. It’s something she’s thought about often, and no matter how much she knows Athos desires and loves her, she knows he’s loved Aramis longer and first.

Still, it’s a risk Sylvie’s willing to take, and when Aramis approaches she grabs hold of Athos’ arm and pulls him forward as she says, “Aramis. If you have time I need your help. I have beds that need to be moved. I thought you could help Athos to do so.”

“Beds?” Aramis raises an eyebrow, sounding confused even as he affects a bow and says, “But yes, I would be honoured to help you.”

“They’re for the orphans,” Sylvie says, stepping to the side so she’s walking nestled between Athos and Aramis. “We’re trying to keep them all together, and give them somewhere warm and safe to sleep.”

“An excellent plan,” Aramis says, sounding approving. “If there are many I could go get Porthos and d’Artagnan. I’m sure they’d be happy to help.”

“Leave them be, we can manage between us,” Athos says, and then, “Porthos has been itching to wager and Constance hasn’t seen d’Artagnan for too long.”

“True.” Aramis smiles, but there’s something wistful behind the flashy grin as he says, “Our d’Artagnan is a very lucky man.”

“He is.” Sylvie glances up at Athos, hoping he’s seeing what’s right there in front of his eyes, something that steels her resolve that Aramis needs this -- to be shown that he’s also got someone who loves and wants him for more than his looks and body. “And Constance is a lucky woman, as am I with two handsome men at my arms.”

“You are a rose between two thorns, my lady,” Aramis says, effortlessly using his charm. “It’s Athos and I who are lucky.”

“Yes you are,” Sylvie agrees, and smiles, because even if Aramis wields the same compliments and charm often with others, Sylvie also knows he still means every word. “I just hope you still think that way when we’re finished tonight.”

“I’m sure I will,” Aramis says, and all Sylvie can do is keep smiling and hope for the best.

~*~*~*~

“Here’s to our hard work.” Aramis holds up his mug, saluting Athos and Sylvie, his shirt sleeve sliding slightly down his arm as he does so. After so long carrying beds -- which actually did require moving, that part of Sylvie’s plan based on a need -- Aramis looks rumpled, a dirty mark on one cheek and his hair damp with sweat. 

“You both worked hard, the orphans and I thank you.” Sylvie takes a sip of her own drink, knowing she needs a clear head if her plan will come to fruition. Standing, she walks toward the bench where she keeps food, on the way resting her hand on Aramis’ shoulder. “Stay for a while and eat with us. I only have cheese and bread but both are bought fresh today.”

Aramis looks between Sylvie and Athos, and for a moment Sylvie’s afraid he’s about to refuse. Then he smiles and says, “I will. Thank you.”

Relieved, Sylvie busies herself gathering the bread and cheese, looking significantly at Athos as she does so. Because this part of the plan is his now, Sylvie’s got Aramis here but if this is to go any further it’s Athos that needs to take the next step.

Except, it looks like that’s not going to happen. Locked in a silence, Athos drains his mug, gulping the wine, and looks so shut down that Sylvie’s surprised Aramis is staying at all. 

“Do you have plans to house more orphans?” Aramis asks, and it seems he’s got long practice of ignoring Athos’ silences by filling them himself with questions and chatter. “If you do, keep an eye on them. I’ve found children are tricky and tend to wander.”

Sylvie bites back a laugh at Athos’ visibly reaction and how he looks at Aramis as if he’s describing himself. But he still doesn’t speak, just keeps clutching the mug in his hand as Sylvie cuts cheese and bread into chunks and puts them all onto a plate.

“We’ve no plans yet, but maybe in the future. We’ll need more beds and space first.” Sylvie sets the plate down on a small table but bypasses her previous seat on the bed, sitting on Athos’ lap instead. Ignoring his confused expression she picks up a piece of bread and takes a bite, before offering the rest to Athos. “Eat, you’ve had a long day.”

“Yours was just as long,” Athos says, but obediently takes a bite, chewing hard as if he hasn’t eaten for days.

Again there’s silence, and Sylvie suppresses the need to sigh. Deliberately brushing crumbs from her chest, she looks over at Aramis, who smiles right back.

“You’re good for him,” Aramis says, sounding genuinely pleased as he watches Athos wrap his arm around Sylvie’s waist. “I’m happy for you both.”

“Thank you,” Sylvie says simply, unable to resist brushing a soft kiss against Athos’ forehead. As gestures go it’s nothing explicit, but still, Aramis’ smile fades a little as he starts to stand.

“I should go. No doubt Porthos has enraged some villain by now. Thank you for the food. I’ll let…”

“Stay.” It’s a command not a request, and Sylvie can feel Athos’ tension as he looks over at Aramis, then reaches out, as if wanting to touch. “Stay with us both.”

“I don’t understand.” Confusion apparent, Aramis fully stands, but beyond that makes no move to gather his things. “Of course I’ll stay, but…”

“There’s nothing to understand.” And there isn’t, not really, but even so, Sylvie knows she has to be careful, and what happens next will define all of their futures. “Stay with us both tonight. Here, in my room. In my bed.”

Aramis looks past Sylvie, his attention on Athos, words hesitant as he says, “You want this? Me staying here? With you both. Because, it’s not. It’s just…” He trails off and adds softly. “I didn’t expect this.”

Sylvie hates seeing Aramis so lost, floundering for words and looking so unsure she’s tempted to pass this whole thing off as some kind of misunderstanding. But that would be cruel, and Sylvie’s about to speak when Athos cuts in.

 

“Yes I want this. We both do.” Kissing Sylvie’s cheek, he stands, steadying her until she stands too, then steps forward, reaching for Aramis’ arm. Wrapping his fingers around Aramis’ wrist, Athos tightens his grip and says, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“You never said.” Aramis stares down at the floor, deliberately not looking at Athos or Sylvie. “I never knew. If I had…”

“You would have done nothing,” Athos says, and glances at Sylvie with a small smile. “The same as I did nothing until Sylvie did it for me. 

“True,” Aramis admits, and looks up then, his expression blank and alien without his usual smile. “I haven’t done this before.”

“What, slept with two others? That’s not what I heard.” Trying to lighten the mood, Sylvie rests her hand over Athos’, so they’re both circling their fingers over Aramis’ wrist, keeping him close. “Or slept with a man? Because if I’ve misjudged….”

“It was a long time ago, but no, you haven’t.” Aramis shakes his head, as always showing no shame for his past sexual exploits. “And I’ve also slept as a three: and more. I just haven’t slept with such a good friend.”

“Then there’s the first time for everything.” Sylvie looks between Athos and Aramis, seeing the connection between them as they stare at one another, like they’re reevaluating the history and emotions apparent between them. It’s something that could feel exclusionary, like Sylvie’s about to be pushed out, but somehow she knows that’s not true. 

“She’s right.” Athos keeps staring at Aramis, then nods slightly, as if he’s come to some solid conclusion. “This doesn’t have to change things.”

“But so often it does,” Aramis says, and Sylvie’s sure he’s about to say no, to run away from the offer they’re giving. But he doesn’t. Instead Aramis takes a deep breath and addresses them both. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Taking command now, it’s apparent Athos has given himself totally to the plan as he presses his mouth against Sylvie’s in a kiss, and then says when he pulls back. “I’m going to kiss him now.”

It’s something Sylvie approves of, and she’s happy to watch, taking in every small detail as Athos cups the side of Aramis’ face, his touch gentle and patient, as if still expecting Aramis to bolt.

“Are you sure?” Athos asks one more time, and at Aramis’ nod, moves in close, claiming a kiss. It’s one that lasts a long time, and Sylvie is unsurprised to discover Aramis is vocal while kissing, tiny breaths of pleasure and sighs as Athos deepens the kiss, his hand against Aramis’ neck, holding him close.

It’s a sight Sylvie wants to remember for all time. The brush of dark hair against Athos’ hand, how Aramis’ shirt has slipped, exposing one shoulder, how when Athos pulls back he nips at Aramis’ bottom lip, making him shiver. 

“He’s very responsive,” Athos says, looking pleased as he adds, “You kiss him now.”

“Bossy,” Sylvie mutters, but as commands go it’s a good one. Her skin prickling with anticipation, she moves into Athos’ former space, pressing her body against Aramis’. And he feels good, different to Athos in so many ways, leaner in some parts, scars patterned differently over his skin, his beard and mustache a strange but welcome scratch against her face as she initiates the kiss.

“Yes,” Athos breathes, and Sylvie opens her eyes, the need to watch Athos warring with the desire to lose herself to the sensation of Aramis’ mouth, the feel of his tongue against her own -- and all the time Athos keeps watching, breathing hard and eyes wide. 

Aramis pulls back, his eyes half-lidded as he looks toward Athos, as if ensuring he hasn’t been with her too long. “I’ll say it again. You’re a very lucky man.”

“I am,” Athos agrees, looking behind him toward Sylvie’s bed, which looks inviting while being so very small. “We should lie down now.”

“We should,” Sylvie agrees, and without any other warning, slips off her dress, folding it carefully before sitting down on the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” Athos says, reverent as he keeps staring even as he takes off his shirt and pulls off his boots. It’s something Sylvie’s seen often, but today his every move seems charged, anticipation rising as he exposes more skin, and then looks over to Aramis, who’s making no attempt to undress. “You’re surely not shy? I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times.”

“Just enjoying the view.” It’s a glib reply, and on the surface Sylvie’s sure Aramis means what he’s saying, but beyond that, she can still sense a concealed hesitation, as if he’s still unsure their welcome is true.

“You’ll get a better view here.” Sylvie pats the space beside her, happy when Aramis does what she says and sits. “Now take off your shirt.”

“Your bossiness is rubbing off on her,” Aramis says, laughing a little as he deftly takes off his shirt and lets it drop to the bed, posing a little as he asks, “Better?”

“Much,” Sylvie says, and it is. Fingers itching with the need to touch, she traces over the scars on his chest, enjoying his shivered response. “You should try.”

The last is addressed to Athos, who’s watching the trace of Sylvie’s fingers, his eyes bright as he follows their path. Taking a deep breath, he nods and sits on the bed too, all three sitting in a row on the side, Aramis visibly shivering when Athos mirrors Sylvie’s actions, both brushing their hands over Aramis’ chest and then down, over his belly and round, following the line of his hips.

Breath hitching, Aramis’ eyes close and he leans back, weight braced on his hands behind him.

“Look at him,” Athos says softly, and Sylvie knows what he means. Aramis has laid himself bare, belly and chest displayed and head back, exposing his neck. Sylvie wants to bite and taste, and glances at Athos, who simply says, “You lead.”

“Okay,” Sylvie says, but first she leans over Aramis and pulls Athos down for a kiss. It’s one that lasts for a long time, and Sylvie can feel Aramis’ bare torso under her chest, can feel how he’s breathing hard and remembers how he tastes in her mouth. Overlain with the feel of Athos, his tongue against hers, the scrape of his teeth against her own, it’s almost too much, Sylvie pushing her hand against the mattress, needing support.

“Don’t stop.” Aramis’ words are ragged, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed, mouth open slightly when Sylvie pulls back from the kiss and sees him watching. “You’re both beautiful.”

“And you talk too much,” Athos says, his tongue darting out as he licks his lips. “Sylvie?”

Taking the hint, Sylvie leans forward, brushing her mouth over the rise of Aramis’ collarbone. Following the ridge of bone, she licks and nips, aware that opposite, Athos is doing the same, their gaze meeting as beneath them, Aramis twitches and makes no attempt to bite back the sounds that he’s making.

Unguarded, he gasps as simultaneously, Sylvie and Athos lick, and then gently bite down on his nipples, and then bite harder when Aramis arches up, a moan torn from his throat. It’s a sound that goes bone deep, Sylvie’s skin burning, heat building between her legs as she runs her mouth over Aramis’ chest and keeps going down, tasting salty sweat and dust, and then feels the first brush of leather, her cheek resting close to his belt.

“Sylvie.” Athos’ voice sounds broken, his words hoarse and Sylvie wants to squirm on the bed, to put her hand between her legs and end the torment of being so close. She doesn’t. She doesn’t need to.

“Athos,” Sylvie says, and rests her hand next to Athos’, so together they’re blanketing Aramis’ belly, their fingertips barely pushed under his belt and top of his trousers. “Together?”

“Together?” Athos repeats, and as one, their foreheads together, Athos’ breath warm gusts over her face, Athos and Sylvie slide their hands down, until they’re both able to curl their fingers over Aramis’ erect cock.

Clumsy at first, and then easy, they fall into a rhythm, and Sylvie knows that she’s close. Every sound that Aramis makes, every move as he pushes up into their shared grip, every bitten back word as he gasps out their names.

And it’s the last that’s Sylvie’s undoing. Heat burning to a crescendo as Aramis spills into their hands, hot wetness slick over their fingers, as Athos cries out and goes still.

They all do. 

It’s all the can do.

 

~*~*~*~

“So what now?” Aramis asks, voice muffled from where he’s wedged between Sylvie and the wall. “If this was a one time thing….”

“It wasn’t,” Sylvie says in return, sated and content, and almost too warm from where she’s half lying on Athos. “But it too late to talk about it tonight.”

“It is,” Athos agrees, and Sylvie can feel him reach out, patting Aramis’ back. “Sleep, Aramis. We’ll talk in morning.”

And they will, Sylvie will make sure of that. But tonight? Tonight they sleep.


End file.
